


808 Beats & Love Letters

by SDTS



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mild Language, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7729519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDTS/pseuds/SDTS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your best friend is throwing a birthday party/Valentine's Day party for herself. You have convinced yourself tonight is the night to give Rafe, your crush, your letter telling him your feelings. You are so nervous that you aren't sure you are going to be able to handle the outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	808 Beats & Love Letters

            “I should have brought glow sticks. That would have been amazing.”

            “Uh, sure, although I don’t know how that would have fit into the theme of your birthday/Valentine’s Day party.”

            Your best friend turns to look at you. She turns hard enough that her drink (her fourth, mind you) sloshes over the rim of the glass and onto your shoes. Alarmed, you take a step back from her.

            “You know,” She slurs slightly, “Glow sticks or not, my birthday or not, this is still a Valentine’s Day party too. I squished them together for a reason.”

            “Is that reason because your birthday and Valentine’s Day are, in fact, on the same day?” You quip as you look down at your shoes to make sure they are okay.

            Your friend crinkles her nose as if she is struggling to remember, “Yes but also because I thought it’d be a chance for you to…you know.”

            She nudges you hard, causing more of her drink to spill on you. You make an irritated noise and grab a napkin off the bar behind you.

            “Are you not aware of your own limbs or something while drunk?”

            Your best friend doesn’t seem to hear you and prattles on, “You know, this is the perfect time and place to tell Rafe how you feel about him. Everyone is here. This is a real party. I rented out this entire place for this bash. Yet the entire time you’ve been over here in this corner.”

            “Please shut up.” You say through a forced smile, suddenly paranoid that Rafe will magically appear near the two of you.

            But your friend is too drunk to properly hear you, “When are you going to tell him? Tonight is the night. You can’t back out.”

            Your friend has a point. You did tell her last week that you would tell Rafe how you felt about him. You had been harboring a crush on him for so long that it was almost comical. You two had been in the same group of friends for what felt like forever.

            Yet Rafe always seemed to be dating someone much prettier and smarter than you were. Even though the two of you got along and spoke often, he had never given any sort of indication that he had feelings like that about you.

            In your purse was a note that told him exactly how he felt about you. Yet when you imagined yourself going over to him and handing it to him, the idea was about as enjoyable as leaping off a cliff into an ocean filled with hungry great white sharks.

            Your friend shook her head, “You better get your shit together. He’s single but by tomorrow, who knows?”

            Another valid point. Rafe seemed to go through girlfriends often. Sometimes they left him, claiming he was too moody. He was but he always seemed to be more prone to opening up to you when he got like that. Sometimes he left them, telling everyone they just didn’t click.

            “Oh, shit, this is my song,” Your friend suddenly says and puts her empty drink on the bar counter, “I gotta dance. Are you coming?”

            “No, I’m alright.”

            “Suit yourself. If you want to be a wallflower, I won’t stop you.”

            You watch your friend leave towards the small dance floor in front of the karaoke machine. The floor is crowded with other intoxicated friends. You can see Nate Drake trying to dance in front of his wife, Elena. The sight is comical only because of the look of fierce drunken concentration on his face, as if he is trying very hard to impress her.

            You look away from the dance floor. Through the haze of cigarette smoke, you try to see if you can see Rafe. The note in your purse feels as if it is burning through the material.

            Moving away from the bar counter, you start to cut through the crowd. Couples are linked together, heads bent close together, as they slow dance to music that isn’t even slow. The single people that showed up for the birthday side of the party are doing shots and stuffing their face with cake. Your best friend outdid herself with this party. You are squandering it all because you just had to set a deadline for yourself. Typical you.

            Then you see Rafe. He is in a small table pressed against the side of the wall. He doesn’t seem to hear the club music banging all around the room. He has his phone in front of him and is texting someone. He looks bored but that is his default facial expression.

            Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. It is almost identical to the very first time you saw him. You had been in high school and you had snuck in past the bouncer to get into a night club. Nate’s brother, Sam, had made fake IDs for everyone to get them through. (Always a doting big brother.)

            Rafe had been there with some long legged woman. Something about his voice and the way he moved had enticed you from the first moment you had seen him. Even with the long legged woman there, the two of you had hit it off.

Everyone seemed to give Rafe a wide berth, something you didn’t understand. He had always been kind to you. Even when he got into one of his moods, he had never been cruel to you. Sometimes you wondered, even hoped, that mean he had some sort of feelings for you.

Rafe seemed to sense you because he looked up from his phone. You slid in the bar stool across from him. He was putting his phone into his pocket and said something. His voice was swallowed up by the thumping music. He motions for you to lean closer.

You lean forward at the same time he does. You can smell his cologne. Probably costs more than the rent on your apartment. Rafe’s family is rich. He could buy and sell whatever he wanted three times over. Sometimes you wonder if that is why he is so wary of people.

Up this close, you can see how clean shaven he is. His hair is slicked back without a hair out of place. His black t-shirt fits him perfectly and his arms are perfectly toned from hours of working out. You know that he folds his clothes as soon as they get out of the dryer unlike you who lets them sit there until you start kicking yourself for being so lazy. Would anyone else know that about him?

            “Music is too fucking loud!” He shouts in your ear.

            Ah, that’s another – Rafe hates loud music. Especially club music. Especially club music that is just top forty remixed.

            “I don’t mind it!” You admit.

            On anyone else this would have brought a scowl to his face. But when you admit this, he smiles a little.

            “Of course!”

            He looks as if he is going to say more but then someone accidentally falls against Rafe. He almost is knocked out of his chair and turns around to see who fell into him.

            “Hey, buddy!” Sam Drake slurs, tossing his arm around Rafe’s shoulders, who shrugs him off.

            “Watch where you are going!” Rafe yells in his ear.

            “Listen, Nate and I – hey, listen! Are you listening!?”

            “Yes!” Both Rafe and yourself shout in unison at Sam, who is clearly plastered.

            “Nate and I are going to sing some karaoke! You want in?”

            “Are you crazy?” Rafe scowls and looks disgusted at the mere idea.

            Sam is bobbing his head up and down to the beat of the song that just started, “I love this song, man!”

            “Because you’re a moron!” Rafe says to him harshly but Sam hardly seems to notice.

            He looks over at you, “You wanna sing?”

            “No, thanks!”

            “Ah, that’s right. Wouldn’t wanna disturb the two lovebirds!” Sam slurs before pushing off the table and heading towards the karaoke machine.

            Lovebirds? You can feel your face flush and you are glad that it is so dark in here. A couple passes by the table just then with their mouths practically glued onto each other. One of them has a giant red heart painted on their cheek. You can almost feel the note in your purse bouncing up and down for attention.

            “Karaoke? Is he crazy?” Rafe asks you, shaking his head.

            Over his shoulder, you can see Nate talking to Elena. She has her back against the wall and is holding onto a heart shaped balloon. Nate is leaning forward, probably telling her about the menace of karaoke that he is about to unleash on all the poor people at this party. But Elena tilts her face back and laughs. He brushes a lock of hair away from her face.

            There is something about that simple gesture that makes you say ‘fuck it’. Admittedly, you do this before anything major you are too afraid to do. But the feeling takes you over now and before you can talk yourself out of it, you yank the note out of your purse and hand it to Rafe.

            Rafe takes the note. You can see his mouth form the words ‘What is this?’ but the music sucks it up. Your courage already failing you, you turn away from the table and weave your way through the crowd.

            You feel as if someone is sitting on your chest. Your nerves are terrible. The last time they felt this bad was when a bunch of you had crashed at one of Rafe’s vacation homes. You had fallen asleep in one of the guest rooms and when you woke up, he was asleep next to you. Apparently, he had been so tired that he couldn’t make it to his own room.

            You had been so close to blurting it out then. You can still recall the way he looked when he was sleeping. Any sort of hostility he wore like a shield had been stripped away. His eyelashes rested gently against his skin and he snored a little. You had wanted to reach out and touch him but had felt too afraid.

            Now it feels as if you are on a rollercoaster that is permanently going down on a big drop. The club music fades out and then the karaoke music suddenly kicks up. It is loud and jarring because the song is vaguely familiar but sounds as if a bunch of hyenas are singing it.

            You glance over at the karaoke machine. Both Nate and Sam are trying to sing the lines at the same time instead of splitting them up. The pop song, which is decent at most, is marred by the brothers wailing and warbling over the lines. Since neither one of them will stop singing, they seem determined to drunkenly outdo each other.

            Jesus, had it really been Nate’s moment with his wife that had spurned you to give the letter to Rafe? The same man who is currently trying to thrust his hips in time with the 808 drums?

            Next to him, Sam is pointing to different women and winking. He keeps forgetting half of the lines. It is an absolute train wreck – and you can’t even enjoy it because you sort of feel as if you are going to throw up.

            You look over at the table Rafe had been sitting at. He is gone. Had he left? Panic seizes you. At that moment, your best friend walks by. You yank on her arm and pull her over.

            “They’re good, right?” She asks you, gesturing to Sam and Nate “singing”.

            “What? No. Are you – you are drunk. Never mind. Have you seen Rafe?”

            Your friend nods, “I think he left? I saw him cut across the club to the entrance.”

            “He left?”

            “Think so. Why? You missed your shot, didn’t you? I really thought tonight was the night for you.”

            You mumble something and move past your best friend. Rafe had left. He had read your confession and left. Your chest felt as if someone had kicked it in. You suddenly near air before you start crying in front of the Drake brothers singing.

            You go to the back entrance of the club and push out the side door. You practically spill out into the night air. It is freezing cold. You forgot your jacket in the club but don’t care enough to go back. The cold gives you something to focus on.

            You are taking big gulps of air as if you have been underwater for too long. The cold air pierces your lungs. Thankfully, you can no longer hear the Drake brothers singing. What a shitty Valentine’s Day. Nothing like telling the guy you adore how you feel and he leaves.

            Maybe a letter had been too cheesy. But you were better with writings things down than trying to express them verbally. At the time, you had thought it was cute. Obviously not.

            You are at the front of the club now. You are fumbling in your purse for your wallet and your phone. You’ll call an Uber or something.

            “Hey, what are you doing?”

            You look up and over your shoulder to see Rafe. He is putting his phone in his pocket and is coming over to you.

            “Where is your jacket? You’re going to catch a cold.” He says to you.

            Rafe shrugs off his own jacket that he must have picked up before he ran outside to flee your letter of affections. He comes over to you and drapes it across your shoulders. You feel as if your tongue is too large in your mouth to speak and merely watch him.

            He looks at you, “Are you leaving?”

            You nod.

            “Why?” Rafe frowns.

            A million lies flip across your brain but instead you decide a good old fashioned rambling is the best way to proceed, “I gave you that letter – you left and I just thought – and then Nate and Sam started singing and it was so awful – and I only told you because Nate brushed Elena’s hair back – I just – I fucked it up. I have to go.”

            You are going to cry. You can feel your breath hitching as you turn around to flee. But Rafe’s hand grabs yours. The sudden touch freezes you and you can’t help but look back at him.

            “Half of that made sense. But I think I get the point. You think I don’t feel the same way?”

            “You left.” You say a bit more slowly.

            “Had to make a phone call to someone to cancel a date.”

            Your head feels very light and you refuse to let the words sink into your brain so you repeat, “You left. After I gave you the letter.”

            “Yes, that is correct,” Rafe says with a hint of impatience to his tone, “Because I had to cancel a date with another woman. You are truly out of it tonight.”

            He still hasn’t let go of your hand. Your skin is tingling and you feel as if you are having emotional whiplash.

            “Do you like me or not?”

            Rafe gives a small shake of his head and it feels as if your heart is truly going to shatter now. The tears that have been threatening to spill over finally do. Damn it, why didn’t you wear waterproof make-up today?

            With his free hand, Rafe leans forward and brushes one of the tears away from your face. He looks at his finger tip, which is smudged black from your mascara.

            “Don’t they make this stuff waterproof now?”

            In spite of your mood, you let out a strangled laugh, “I’m too cheap.”

            Rafe smiles a little and looks at you, “I don’t like you because I love you. You fool.”

            You are pretty sure that you have misheard him. You don’t even reply. You just gawk at him. Then you remember your mouth is probably hanging open and you manage to close it.

            He goes on, “I’ve loved you for a long time but you never seemed interested. All those girls I dated…they cared about my money. Or didn’t understand my way of thinking. You always have though.” He trails his fingers down the side of your cheek.

            “Rafe, I…”

            “This is so corny though. Valentine’s Day, really? We’re going to do this on Valentine’s Day?”

            You let out another laugh and start furiously wiping the tears off your face, “I guess so.”

            He pulls you towards him. Your heart is thumping so hard in your chest that it might pop like one of those heart shaped balloons. Rafe puts his fingers under your chin and gently tilts your face up to his.

            “For you, it’s okay.”

            Then his lips are on yours. Everything else is washed away in that kiss – a kiss that you have been dreaming of for so long that you can hardly believe it is finally happening now.

            Perhaps the letter wasn’t such a bad idea after all.


End file.
